


There's No Prince

by musicforswimming



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Background Femslash, Comfort Sex, Episode: s03e22 Graduation Day Part II, F/M, Het, Older Man/Younger Woman, Safer Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicforswimming/pseuds/musicforswimming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She goes home with him after they finish with the Mayor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Prince

**Author's Note:**

> For Porn Battle X, off the prompt "hunt". Title from Springsteen.

She goes home with him after they finish with the Mayor, and even though there's all this energy twisting around inside of her like there always is when a fight ends fast, there was still Angel standing there in the clouds, then gone, and Buffy can't find it in her to say anything. Giles starts off by making some heroic efforts at conversation, but when she just keeps "uh-huh"-ing he gives up eventually, and it's just quiet and comfortable between them instead. Their ears are still ringing with the explosion, anyway.

He pulls a bottle out of a cabinet, and a couple of glasses, and when she reacts to that he sighs. "Don't get used to it, Buffy; however puritanical the law may be it's still the law." Setting the bottle down, going through his drawers for something, he adds, "But I think you've earned it."

It's only a glass, and there's not much _in_ the glass at that, so probably she can't blame it on the wine, especially because actually if she's totally honest it may start _before_ she actually drinks any, when she picks the bottle up while he's still muttering about the damned corkscrew being here somewhere, and pulls the cork out herself.

"Ah," Giles says, and takes the bottle from her. "I suppose that works, too."

Buffy beams at him, and he raises his glass to her, and each of them has maybe a sip before she sets her glass down, takes his out of his hand, climbs up onto the bar, since he's still in the kitchen, and kisses him. It's not like with Angel, not like any of the times with Angel, but he's careful like Angel, too, and the thought hurts so much that she gasps with the pain of it.

"I'm sorry," she says. Giles doesn't say anything; he's gone completely still, like a little fuzzy animal waiting to see if the predator is gone. Which would make _her_ the predator.

She doesn't mind that, for once. So she kisses him again, harder, puts her hands on his shoulders to brace herself because she's kind of weirdly balanced here, and finally, finally, he says something, puts his hands on hers and breaks the kiss slowly, carefully, like he's defusing a bomb. "Buffy," he begins.

"Giles," she answers, and when she goes to kiss him again he pulls away.

"Buffy, you've been through -- "

"A lot, which is why I could really, really use this."

"Angel -- "

"Is gone. Isn't coming back."

He starts to move away and she tightens her grip, won't let him go, needs him here. "No," she tells him. "Giles, look, I'm fine. I just, I don't know -- " Energy is spinning around inside of her, jittery post-fight energy and the need to feel skin against her own, to be grounded, but she can't find the words for it, and she settles, finally, on "I need this, Giles."

He says nothing, but he doesn't pull away, and that's enough of an answer for her. She kisses him again, and finally, taking off his glasses but still hanging onto them, he lets her kiss him, opens his mouth and lets her in, lets her push and push and deepen it until it's like she hits something and he starts kissing her back.

That first time, it's on the couch -- in Giles's defense, he tries hard to guide them, to move from the kitchen to the living room to the stairs, but stairs are too hard and Buffy's aching too much. She pulls him to the couch instead, pushes him down and climbs on top of him, pulling off her pants and raising an eyebrow when he pulls out his wallet and retrieves a condom.

"Wow," she says, and snatches it from his hand before he can do anything else. "I'm impressed, Giles."

He sighs, the same long-suffering sigh as ever, which helps get rid of the last jittery _thing_ curled up in her chest and just leaves her warm and wanting. She jerks the little foil packet out of his reach when he grabs for it, but since it wasn't really an issue with Angel, and it was only the once anyway, and wow is that not a line of thought she wants to pursue right now, she relents after that and gives it back to him, watches curiously because she's only ever seen this in health class on a model, not on the real thing. His hands hesitate, though, and she reaches over for him, lets her fingers work on his pants while she kisses him again, and then looks down when she feels his hands join hers, push his underwear out of the way.

It's just skin, after all, and when he realizes she's watching she tears her gaze away and kisses him again. "I've just never done that before," she explains, and somehow knows it was the wrong thing to say, can feel the hesitation in his skin, so she drops her mouth to his throat, licks and sucks at the pulse that pounds under skin that's warm with life, and puts her hand where his are, on the hardness.

"Giles, seriously," she finally murmurs against his throat, tasting sweat and smoke. "I mean, it's not like I can blame the wine."

He actually laughs at that, just a little, and it's enough for her to adjust them, push him until he's leaning back a little, like he might actually relax for once in his life, and move over him. She hasn't done this before, either, and when her hands hesitate, he gets it, somehow, that it's not that she's having second thoughts, it's just that she's flying blind, and his hands join hers again, one sliding along her thighs until it finds the heat of her and the other guiding himself, helping her help him inside of her, until she can sink down onto him. Buffy hangs onto him then, just for the moment, getting used to this, to warmth all around her. Giles's breathing has gone ragged, and after a second to get used to it she opens her eyes and finds that he's looking at her. Giles drops his gaze and Buffy reaches out and catches his cheek, just lays her hand against it until he meets her eyes again.

"Buffy," he says, "if you don't -- "

"I do," she tells him, and smiles at him until he manages a small one in return, and then she settles more comfortably onto him and begins moving.

And...it's good.

It's warm and comfortable and it's _safe_ the way she didn't actually know it could be, in her completely vast experience of one time with a vampire and a couple of nervous times with a Slayer who turned out to be crazy. After he's made her come and he's shuddered against her, he pulls out of her and strips off the condom and whispers to her to lean back against the couch, and he kneels in front of her. Giles works her with his hands and his mouth and it's only them, sweaty on an early-summer night in Sunnydale, and then it's only her pleasure and whatever of him she can feel against her, because the world's contracted to only that, but it's more than enough for Buffy right now.


End file.
